


Scope

by winterpillowtalk



Series: One Direction vs. Boring Jobs [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Retail, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterpillowtalk/pseuds/winterpillowtalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They work in a charity shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scope

“Can I clean the ceiling yet?”

“For the last time, you _cannot_ Hoover the ceiling! I don’t know how many times we’ve been through this,” Zayn snapped, narrowing his eyes at Niall who already had the vacuum cleaner at the ready.

“It’s so _dirty_ ,” Niall whined, pointing up at the dust which had collected in the ventilation slats above them. Zayn couldn’t lie, they were absolutely filthy, but he had already warned his friend about the dangers of putting a cleaning appliance up there – it could set the alarms off, and no one wanted to stand in the cold to wait for the police and fire-fighters to arrive. Or answer the questions which were to follow.

Despite Zayn’s protests, Niall still lifted the vacuum over his head, directing the nozzle at the dust – and god knows what else – on the ceiling. He was so determined to clean it, it was almost sweet.

 _Almost_.

“Put the Hoover _down_ , Niall,” Zayn shouted, causing Harry to come rushing in from the front of the shop. He walked into something which couldn’t be described. Two of his employees were glaring at each other as one raised as vacuum above his head, brandishing it as if it was some kind of medieval weapon.

Harry hesitated, still standing in the doorway. The two of them hadn’t noticed them yet, and he was busy enjoying the scene before him. Luckily, he wasn’t needed on the shop floor at that moment because business was notoriously slow on a Saturday morning, and Liam was doing a good job tidying the stacks of toys they had for sale.

“I’m sure Harry will get someone to clean them for us later today, alright? There’s no need for you to do it. Can’t you go back to steaming the clothes like you were doing previously?” Zayn suggested, starting to sound as if he was giving up with the man in front of him.

Niall made an annoyed noise as Zayn turned off the Hoover. The room was plunged into a weird silence when the whirring of the vacuum cleaner was gone. Zayn was still looking at Niall with narrowed eyes – and at that moment, Harry was glad looks couldn’t kill because he was almost certain that he’d be filling out countless amounts of forms concerning a death of an employee.

“I can’t steam clothes when there’s a mess up there!” Niall complained. “How can I concentrate when the whole building could go up in flames?”

“It won’t go up in flames,” Zayn said, trying to sounds as reassuring as possible. He looked fed up with Niall’s behaviour because Harry was sure he’d heard them have the same argument only a week before. He cast his gaze up to the ceiling. Maybe Niall was right, it did look a little untidy up there. Still, it wasn’t like he could do much about it now, it would have to wait until the weekend before anything could appease Niall’s worries about an imminent fire.

Harry wanted to watch on, but was tapped on the shoulder. He jumped a little, not expecting to be disturbed any time soon. He turned around and smiled when he faced Liam. “Yes?” Harry asked, trying to figure out why he was needed.

“Someone’s here with a donation,” Liam said quietly, making sure the person who was at the till couldn’t hear them.

“You know what to do,” Harry said, confused why one of his staff needed help with such a simple task. It wasn’t as if Liam hadn’t taken in donations. It was pretty simple: the person gave you their items; you asked if they wanted to Gift Aid them, and then you put them in the back along with the other bags full of saleable goods.

“No, but this man... His contributions are, um, unique?”

“Unique?” Harry echoed, confused. “How so?” Liam didn’t say anything else, but pulled on his sleeve, directing him towards the customer.

The man had a large bag, filled with what looked like clothes. Nothing looked different there; clothing was one of the most popular things to be given in to charity shops. Harry looked over to Liam, who was standing in front of the videos and DVDs, trying to look like he was tidying them.

“How may I help you?” Harry asked, giving the man a welcoming smile.

“Are you the manager?” was the response he got. Harry groaned inwardly. Sometimes people were so stupid, he did have a badge on which clearly stated he was the shop manager.

“I am,” he ended up saying, in spite of what he thought about the stranger.

The man pushed the bag forwards, presenting it to Harry. “I’d like to donate these, but one of your employees said there was an issue with them!”

Harry chuckled awkwardly, not liking how the man was starting to get agitated. “Can I have a look at them?” Harry asked, taking hold of the bag. When the man nodded, he opened it up and had to stifle a surprised laugh. “Are these football shirts?”

The man grinned. “Yes!” he said, a bit too loudly for the calm atmosphere of the shop. “I won a competition that involved me designing some, and here they are.” The man was proud – probably too proud of his shirts, but Harry gave him an uneasy smile.

He took one of the shirts out of the bag and tried to work out what was on it. He knew what a football shirt should have looked like, and, well, what he had in his hands was anything but a conventional one. From the back, it seemed to be normal – a name adorned the back in large white letters. It was nothing special until Harry looked at the front.

“It’s an elephant,” the man stated, beaming at it. “I designed that, too.”

“You don’t say?” Harry said, trying to hide the sarcastic tone through his voice. It didn’t resemble an elephant or any animal at all. The ‘elephant’ was a mix of colours and patterns, all in a rough shape of Only The Lord Knows. It clashed, too. Didn’t anyone tell him that purple and orange really don’t go together? And this man won the competition. Harry didn’t want to hazard a guess to how bad the other competitors would have been for the mess he was given to get first place. “Why would you want to give these away? Aren’t they meant to be very important to you?” Harry tried to make it seem like they were too special for his humble charity shop, but he knew that they’d just go straight in the bin if they were handed over to the store.

The man shook his head. “Alas, I have too many.” He sounded unreasonably sad. “I only asked for five – enough for all my friends – but I must have mistyped and they sent me five hundred in the post.”

“That’s so... tragic,” Harry said, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing in the man’s face. “We’ll happily take them off you,” he lied. “Would you like to Gift Aid them? We can claim back twenty-five percent from tax.”

“Okay,” the man said, getting another bag from off the floor. Harry didn’t want to think about all the shirts Niall had to clean. Poor Niall, having to be stuck in the room which he believed was a fire hazard.

“Can I take your name?” Harry asked. He looked under the counter as the list of people who already had a Gift Aid account, waiting for the man to supply him with his name.

“Louis Tomlinson,” the man said. Harry flicked through the pages and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that Louis already had an account.

Harry called Liam over, asking him to finish off the transaction. He quietly reassured him that they accepted the rather unique shirts, and would have a large amount of fun steaming four hundred and ninety-five items of clothing.

Maybe they could open another shop, solely selling the t-shirts they now had in their possession.

Harry made his way back to the backroom, hoping that Zayn and Niall had worked out their small disagreement about the ceiling. However, like always, they hadn’t. Zayn was sat down on the stool provided, the plug of the Hoover in his hand. Niall was scowling at him as he stood near the clothing rack, waiting for the steamer to heat up the water.

“Honestly, Niall. You cleaning the ceiling tiles will do more harm than good,” Zayn said, sounding resigned.

“Have you ever vacuumed them?” Niall asked, trying to make himself seem threatening. However, this was lost as he jumped when the high-pitched hissing noise of the steamer broke through the tension.

“No, Niall. I haven’t.”

“So, how do you know it’ll go wrong?” Niall asked, raising an eyebrow like he was winning the argument.

“Because I have common sense,” Zayn said, nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I have common sense, too!” Niall said, defending himself.

“I’m sure you do,” Zayn replied, drily. “Anyone with an ounce of common sense would totally think it’s a wonderful idea to clean something that was feet above them.”

Niall hesitated for a second, glancing around the room. “I could stand on a chair, or an upturned box.” He sounded like he’d just found out the meaning of life, if God was real and the answer to the question he once got wrong on his Maths test all at once. All Zayn could do is look at Niall with a disappointed expression.

Sensing that Niall really was going to find the closest box – regardless of the material it was made of - to stand on, Harry made his presence noticed by coughing a couple of times.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

Zayn sighed, for the umpteenth time, giving Harry a semi-desperate look. “He’s trying to vacuum clean the ventilation slats. Again.”

“Again? How many times has this happened?” Harry enquired, walking into the stockroom.

“I don’t know. About eight times this month – maybe more?” Zayn stood up from his seat, dropping the plug to the floor. He watched as Niall rushed to it, putting it into the mains socket, making the Hoover burst into life. Zayn lifted his arms in defeat – nothing they did stopped Niall’s endless quest to remove the grime from the ceiling. “You talk to him.” Harry watched as Zayn left the room.

Niall was still staring at the vacuum, probably trying to work out how to fix the problem in hand. Harry scratched his head; he didn’t know how to approach the topic. Niall seemed to set on getting rid of the dust, regardless of the consequences.

If Zayn couldn’t do it, he doubted he could make any more progress with his employee. He could threaten him with docking his pay, or even firing him, but he didn’t have the heart. Niall was a loyal worker, despite his... quirks.

“Listen,” Harry said, stooping down to turn the vacuum off. “Zayn’s said it countless times: you cannot clean them like that. I’ll get someone to do it, if it’s bothering you that much.” Harry tried his best to sound calm.

“I can’t steam in this room. Hot steam plus flammable dust? Nuh-uh. I don’t think so. I don’t want to die in a fire, not today.” Niall reached for the ‘on’ button, but Harry pushed his hand away. “I don’t want to go up in flames, Harry!” Niall yelled, getting increasingly restless.

“Has there been a fire yet?” Harry asked.

“No.”

“See, you’re safe. The dust has been there for years.”

“ _Years_?” Niall cut him off, sounding utterly horrified. Harry had to slap his hand away from the on switch.

“Yes. No one has died. The fire alarm hasn’t gone off once since I’ve been here and that’s been a while,” Harry said, giving his best comforting smile – one he had perfected over the years of working in the retail industry.

“If I catch on fire, it’s your fault, Styles.” Harry nearly laughed but Niall looked deadly serious. Instead, he opted for nodding as sincerely as he could manage at that time.

Harry walked towards the mains socket, unplugging the Hoover. He wound up the cord, taking the small cleaner out of the room. Maybe he needed to lock it away in the office, purely to keep it away from Niall’s hands. He couldn’t trust the man around it, especially not alone – Harry dreaded to think what would happen if he let Niall carry out his plan.

It would probably end badly.

Maybe with death.

Harry kicked the appliance into the small office, making sure the door was locked as he left. No one could touch it now, not even Liam. The vacuum was safe now, Harry could work in peace.

That’s what he hoped, anyway. But his life wasn’t fair, evidently. He could already hear the shouting coming from the backroom within minutes of Zayn going back in.

Harry had enough. He stormed back into the room, glaring at the people in it. They were standing close to each other, yelling words which combined into one incoherent sound.

“You cannot use a _desk cleaner_ to get rid of the dust!” Zayn shouted. “How are you even going to reach it with _that_?!”

“I’ll jump,” Niall screamed back. “You know? That thing you do when you want to reach places you can’t reach!”

“That’s not going to work, for Christ’s sake!” Zayn cried in annoyance. Harry saw him start to pull at his hair, un-lodging some of the strands from the neatly combed parts. “Do you seriously think you can jump high enough to reach?”

“Yes,” Niall said, determined. “I was good at high jump in school, I’ll have you know. Best in the school. No one could jump higher than me. They called me Kangaroo Boy for a reason.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t because you had a weird love for marsupials?” Liam said, poking his head around the door. Zayn let out a choked laugh, making Niall’s face turn bright red.

“No,” he said. “You didn’t know me then, you’ve never seen me jump. I could jump into space, if I wanted.”

“Do it,” Zayn urged. “Jump into space then I’ll never have to see your idiotic face again!”

“ _Zayn_ ,” Harry warned. “Be nice.”

Niall gave Zayn a death glare. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll jump into space. See you later.” Everyone watched as Niall jumped a good three centimetres off the ground multiple times, muttering to himself every time he failed. It went on for a while, but no one could look away – it was too funny. Zayn looked up at Liam and Harry who were both biting their lips to stop themselves from laughing at him.

“Nearly. Got. There,” Niall said, out of breath.

He was nowhere near outer space.

Liam must have left during Niall’s attempts at reaching Mars, because he walked back into the stockroom, two boxes in his hand.

“Niall, stop jumping. You’re making a fool of yourself,” Liam said, placing the two mystery boxes down on the table. “I got you two something to stop you from arguing all the time.” He looked proud at what he’d purchased; only making Zayn curious about them. Liam never bought people anything, not even for their birthdays or Christmas.

Zayn opened the box that had his name written across it in black Sharpie. He looked down, confused with what he saw.

“Cheese?” he asked slowly.

“Read it!” Liam said, bursting with excitement.

“I am sorry I was so mean to you, Niall. You can-“ Zayn stopped reading. “I am not finishing this sentence.”

Harry looked away from the boxes, only to discover Niall was no longer in the room. “Where is he?” he asked. He looked up towards the ceiling and snorted. “Niall’s in space.” Weirdly enough, no one paid any attention to Harry’s newest discovery; they were both too engrossed with the slab of cheese Liam had found.

“Guys,” Harry said, trying to get their attention. “Niall is now living with E.T.”

“Good for him,” Zayn said, uninterested. “Who cares about that, Liam found a place where you can get cheese engraved!”

Suddenly, all worries about Niall’s space adventures left Harry’s mind of the thought of being able to have a message written onto solid lumps of mouldy milk. “ _No_ ,” he said, not wanting to believe it. “Where did you find this?!”

“You know the new shop that opened just down the road?”

“The one with the girl who has married a figure made of cheese?” Harry asked.

“That’s the one,” Liam said, smiling. “She does it! How cool!”

“So cool,” Zayn agreed, picking up the block of cheese and inspecting it. It was so perfect – so smooth and an off-yellow colour. He’d never seen anything more stunning in his entire life. He didn’t think cheese could hold such beauty until that fateful day.

From that day forward, Zayn, Liam and Harry all got their cheese engraved with slogans on. No one cared to look for Niall; they all knew he was happy up on Mars with his family – his _true_ family. The only slight annoyance that Zayn faced with his work colleague’s permanent absence was the four hundred and ninety-five shirts he had to steam, as well as the gaping hole through the roof.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment x


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